A Chance Meeting
by Shy scorpion
Summary: All is not well on Tanssexual, and the throne is in dispute. It's up to a new generation to set it right. Contains OC's. New betaread chapters are being uploaded.
1. Morphia

_Author's Notes: The revised, revised edition. Oh well, nobody's perfect. Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy._

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I was crossing the East Old City Common to see my mother at the Psychiatric Center, when I collided with a life altering force. Like the ripples in a pond, a little thing with enormous consequences. I was walking along, preoccupied, when I saw a pale blur out of the corner of my eye and… there we were, me and destiny in a heap on the aging permacrete of East Common. I was on my back and she was sprawled across my lap with the skirt of her little black unisex dress hiked up to her waist. It was the kind of dress that most office workers wear, but she wasn't wearing the normal black satin garter-belt combination that most office lackeys favor. She had on some really high-class midnight-blue lace and kid leather panties and impossibly sheer silver hold-up stockings. After a very long moment I realized I was staring rather rudely, tore myself away from the show, and looked her in the face. She had long white-blonde hair, unlikely lavender eyes, and fashionably translucent skin. To me she was stunning, but I doubt most Transylvanians would even deign to call her pretty. Not on this planet, anyway. Around here things run more to the overtly confident and ostentatious than to the physically beautiful. The way she dropped her eyes and turned her head, modestly trying to hide her underwear would normally be considered a big turnoff to most of the resident population. True to my fetishist roots however, I found it horribly distracting. Not the best frame of mind in which to visit your (legally insane) mother. As she began to gather her papers, I noticed her hands were small and well groomed, with long, elegant fingers, the nails smooth and manicured; I let my mind wander momentarily, then bent down to help.

"I am so sorry," she murmured, not meeting my eye. "I should have been watching where I was going."

"No, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention..." She had stopped gathering papers and was looking intently at the ground. She had a little crease between her eyebrows, and with a brief twinge of panic I knew she was about to cry. Here I had a brief moral dilemma. Mother, pretty stranger, mother, pretty stranger... but then again, I thought, why not both? "Hey, are you busy? Um...I'm going to visit my -- uh a friend of mine at the Psychiatric Center …would you like to come along? If you're not busy or anything, um... it won't take very long, we could go get tea or something after if you like --Oh please! No, don't cry!" Too late. She was sobbing embarrassedly into a memo paper. The strange spectacle was beginning to draw curious stares from passers-by. I helped her up and half led, half carried her up the nearby ramp to the Orchard Park and set her down on a bench under some fruit trees. Then I made a quick dash back down and clumsily gathered her papers and folders into her slim metal briefcase, found her expensive looking Mobile Computer Unit miraculously still there, and went back up. By the time I got back she had calmed somewhat and was wiping her nose with the remains of the memo. I put her things to her left on the bench and sat myself on her other side. She pushed a lock of silvery hair out of her face and looked over at me. Her eyes caught mine, lovely and helpless, and felt a strange popping sensation in my chest. I had another brief twinge of panic as I realized I was in imminent danger of becoming seriously infatuated. Some of my feelings must have shown on my face (I thought I could feel my cheeks burning) because she blushed and looked down. She reached over and began to fiddle with the sleek little keyboard of her computer unit. I noticed the time on her screen, "Oh, shit."

"Um….I'm sorry?" She offered timidly, glancing at me uncertainly.

"No, no, nothing you did. The time, err…visiting hours will be over soon, and I have to hurry if I want to see my mo- er, my…my friend." I stood up abruptly, feeling stupid.

"I'm very sorry," she whispered, gathering her things and standing as well. "I've caused you quite enough trouble. Please excuse me-"

"No, don't!" I said rather loudly and harshly. She looked taken aback, and I made a clumsy attempt to cover my ass. "Um….I -- uh, look -- no harm done. Why don't you come with me? You'll have to wait in the lounge, but it'll only be for a little while and then we can go do something. My treat, uh… to -- to make up for running into you like that." I said with more bravado than I actually felt, and as soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized how strange they must have sounded. Most people in this part of the city were just coming back from lunch hour; she was in an office worker's dress. Oh well, I never claimed to be especially observant. Except as far as lingerie is concerned, anyway.

"Okay."

"You mean you will?" I blurted out, taken completely off guard.

"Yes, I mean it's the least I could do, for being so troublesome, I mean." She said looking cute, shy and (perhaps understandably) a little confused.

Now I'm quite sure that among more rational readers her answer sounds just as strangely random as my invitation, but I wasn't in a particularly rational state of mind to begin with. Anyway, no place in the galaxy is better for picking up a date than the "moon drenched shores of Transsexual." Or whatever the Intergalactic Board of Travel and Tourism has come up with these days. I stood by, feeling awkward while she put her things tidily into her steel brief case. When she finished she stood very straight and looked at me expectantly.

"Um, this way." My vocabulary seemed to have degenerated into monosyllables. I motioned in the general direction of the Psychiatric Center. We walked together down the ramp and proceeded across the Common in silence for a few minutes. I was doing my best to watch her without her realizing that I was watching her, when I realized that she probably realized that I was watching her without her realizing that I was watching her. Then I realized that I had no clue who she was. I stopped walking "My name's Red, by the way." I said, somewhat belatedly.

"Morphia," she said slowly, watching my face intently.

"That's a lovely name," I said eventually. Her scrutiny made me uncomfortable.

A radiant smile blossomed across her face, and my heart skipped a beat. "Thank you."

We walked the rest of the way in a surprisingly comfortable silence.


	2. Mother Magenta

_Author's Notes: Welcome to the revised chapter 2, standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy!_

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We made it to the Psychiatric Center just as my younger sister Magdalen was leaving. She went racing back to work after a fast greeting but telegraphed an intensely curious look over her shoulder. I blushed; she'd want to know who Morphia was, and I'd have to tell her too. My sister has the sort of intangible personal quality that makes it very difficult to be dishonest. Then I stopped and thought about it for a second. I shook my head in exasperation -- what was I thinking? I hadn't done anything _wrong_ with her…in fact we hadn't – done -- anything at all, period. Maybe she thought that Morphia was some sort of rebound after my last ex, and I was bringing her to meet mum in a fit of infatuated post-coital madness. Then I realized I had stopped dead right in front of the automatic door, which was standing open and chiming away on a cheerful loop while I stood there entranced by my own deep thoughts. I jumped guiltily out of the way to let Morphia through. She smiled slightly and politely ignored my idiocy. Once inside I went through the visitor's forms quickly; I know the silly things by heart. The receiver-bot scrutinized my answers with bureaucratic efficiency. Morphia stood nervously to the side, with a white-knuckle grip on her briefcase. I wondered why she was so jumpy; since she didn't have the security clearance to actually meet my mother, she'd have to wait here. Maybe I was so used to being in a mental institution that I could appreciate the feelings of the uninitiated. Eventually the robot cleared my form through the main computer, and beeped up to the secure floor to let mum know she had a visitor.

The days seem to blur together here, Magenta thought as she sat in her habitual spot by the window, waiting out visiting hours. She looked through the tiny panes and wondered if anyone else would come today. She sighed; she loved being able to see her children, thought they were hardly children now -- they grew up so quickly. Her youngest was already twenty and the rest were even more worrisome ages. Things had been easy enough when they were small; keeping them out of the little troubles of childhood had been their only concern. They…her heart twisted painfully. She hadn't seen her brother, her partner, her lover, in nearly six years. It had all been so perfect when they'd returned from Earth. They had been given a hero's welcome by the Old Queen, and Princess Jenner had not forgotten their years of loyal service. But the money, the postings, the house -- those things had mattered very little to her. The license to bear children, to have her own children with Riff-Raff, with the best medical care money could buy. _That_ had been a prize beyond any treasure in the cosmos.

And now, in her present circumstances, she couldn't protect them. It tore at her heart. She could only hope that the deal she had made on that awful day held true, and that everybody stayed out of King Eris's sight.

She looked up at the atom clock; visiting hours were nearly over and Red had not come. That was unusual. Red always came to see her, though she almost never saw her father. She felt a little twinge of anxiety. Perhaps she worried most about Red, who always seemed to suffer more from the slings and arrows of fortune; the daughter who could never be content with what she had, and always looked for love in the wrong places.

Having Kitty go and stay with Red after the most recent catastrophic break-up had eased her mind somewhat; but still she worried. The computer unit in the corridor beeped. The nurse came to the door and whispered something to the guard. The guard looked at her through the eye-gap in the door, "You have another visitor. Will you see her?"

My request was finally cleared on the secure floor. I left Morphia in the waiting room while I went up in the lift. I got out at the end of Mum's corridor, and walked down to the tiny cell where she lived -- or at least the place where I always saw her. After six very boring security questions which I am required to answer every time I visit, then the retina scan, and the finger-print scan, they opened the door and let me into the room. Mum looked up from her seat by the miniscule double-paned window.

"You're late, dear; is everything all right?"

"Yeah Mum, I just…uh…ran into somebody on the way over."

"Oh! Anybody special?" She motioned for me to sit in the opposite chair.

"Um…not sure, actually."

"Oh?" She said in an inquiring tone, and I had the uncomfortable urge to quickly change the subject and get the conversation as far away from the topic of my love life as possible.

"Did Magdalen have any interesting news? Was she the only one who showed up today besides me?" Visiting hours come around only once a standard month and last only twelve standard hours, so my siblings and I usually drop whatever we're doing to come see her.

"No, Kitty and Swift came this morning. Salem sent me a message on the SubSpace Network; she's on Caracas 4 surveying the grounds for a new resort. Have you talked to her at all since she left?" She looked at me sternly. I don't get along very well with my eldest sister. "Blue brought me a card from your father." She pointed to a piece of heavy cardstock on a little side table, printed with a delicate pattern. "Vhen vas the last time you vent to see him?" She asked with a raised brow. I don't get along well with my father, either, but thankfully she let it go. "Magdalen is very busy these days; more immigrants are coming in every day, and they all need to be processed." Her expression changed abruptly, grew thoughtful. "But vhat about you, darling? How have you been? I hear so little about your personal life these days. Kitty tells me you haven't been vell since your break-up vith Demona. She says you sit around your apartment all the time and aren't eating properly." Kitty is my youngest sister, and my roommate at the moment. Being the required spoiled baby of the family, my mother often enlists her to spy on the rest of her unruly brood. Not that mum didn't have a point in this case; the split had been hard on me. Demona was a transvestite I met at a club I used to hang out in a lot. It's the oldest story in the world. We dated for a little over six months, s/he moved in, we put each other through the respective bad relationship hells, and s/he finally left in a snit without paying he/r share of the rent and I hadn't heard from he/r since. That was three months ago, give-or-take a week. So Kitty moved in, at the behest of our mother, supposedly to help me out with the rent and be closer to the University. The actual reasons are to fuck whoever she wants, come and go as she pleases, and keep the extent of her recreational drug use private. Making sure I change my underwear, get out of the house and eat every day is an annoying chore she has to do to appease our mother. "Have you got her spying on me?"

"Vhat a horrible thing to say! She's concerned for you, as am I. What an awful thing to say about your sister." She crossed her arms and tried to look disapproving but she was a bit too smug to be really believable.

"Mum, you don't need to worry, look, I'm fine. In fact…I--uh…I have a date tonight."

"Oh! That's vonderful! Is that who you ran into? Tell me all about it."

I could feel a hot blush creeping up my neck. "Um…well, there's not much to tell. She… she just…sorta dropped into my lap." I finished lamely, my thoughts straying momentarily. "She's … uh…very unusual." I stuttered at last.

"Red, darling, is it love?" My Mum asked, and giggled like a schoolgirl. "Vhat is she like? How does she feel about you? Is there a future in it? Or are you two purely temporary?"

These typical mother­ly questions brought me tumbling out of my private reality. What was I doing with Mum, discussing my future with a girl that I've known for all of an hour? What's wrong with this picture? I decided to think about it later – _after_ -- I'd left. "I'm not sure, mum, but I'll let you know, I promise." I shrugged, trying to keep a lid on my agitation. She smiled at me, the warm, genuine smile that I see so rarely. I smiled back, my annoyance evaporating. We sat comfortably, chatting together for a little while longer, until the young, pink-haired, gum-chewing nurse came in and told me that visiting hours were over. We hugged. I gave her a kiss and said good-bye.

Out in the waiting room Morphia jumped up when she saw me. She blushed like a guilty teenager -- it was cute. I offered my arm and motioned to the door, "shall we?" She smiled timidly and took my arm, and we stepped out onto the Common. We walked a little way without speaking, meandering towards the transport station. I saw the Sunset Line Transport waiting at the dock.

"Do you drink?" I asked, "we could go to Sunsets, they make a great cocktail. We would be just in time for happy hour."

She smiled shyly and nodded, and a little while later we were sitting in my very favorite bar, with its dim yet tastefully lit lounge. We stayed away from the bar itself, swarming with office drones in for happy hour to get a little bit plastered before going out for the evening. I preferred the less crowded lounge with its dusty crimson suede and leather upholstery. The walls were painted with a kaleidoscopic paint that changed from gold to carmine to purple to an inky bluish-black. The atmosphere was smoky, the conversation around us a muted, pleasant buzz; perfect. I ordered two White Moon Twists, then two more. By the third round I was feeling pleasantly mellow and Morphia, much less shy.

"Is your mother really Lady Magenta?" She asked abruptly, stubbing out her "lite" Synthcig into the burgeoning ashtray.

I was taken aback by the question. I'd hoped she wouldn't figure out who I'd gone to see, but then I remembered that personal visiting hours were posted on the Psychiatric Center's News Net site. She must've been curious and looked it up while I was with Mum. "Yes, rather. Why? Curious?" I lit an Abasin cigarette while trying to look dapper and cool. I took a drag and passed it to her. She took a short drag, and coughed a little as she passed it back, like she wasn't used to the strong Abasin weed.

"Are the rumors true? Is she really insane?" She asked, wide-eyed and inquisitive like a kid begging for a story.

I had to think about my answer. Normally I get pissed when people pry into the tabloid story of my life, but since I had decided to like her I chose to forgo sarcasm. I took the cigarette back and sucked on the filter. "That's sort of hard to say." I said at last.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She said over the rim of her glass, then eyed the contents critically before draining the dregs. Despite her fragile appearance she had no trouble keeping up with me.

"No -- it's not that. Erm…well let me see if I can explain it properly. Prince Frank had been trying to overthrow his mother and undermine support for his sister; the mission to earth was somehow part of his plan, but I don't really know why. When he took Jenner's most loyal servants – my parents -- with him, he was trying to force their support to his side. But they resisted, and managed to kill him in the end. I don't know the details, but when the mission returned without him, the Old Queen and Princess Jenner gave my parent's a hero's welcome. The Old Queen pardoned them for their part in Prince Frank's death and officially handed the throne down to her daughter. My mother and father had been long time supporters of Princess Jenner and her first act as Queen was to thank them publicly for their help in her ascension. As a reward for their loyalty, she agreed to grant them whatever they wanted that was within her power to give. I expect you know the rest. They got the house on The Hill and the Multiple-Child license, prominent positions at Court, and, of course, money. She shielded them from criticism and they both gained considerable public favor. I remember reporters coming to the house when we were little children and taking pictures for the news networks and wanting interviews. My parents were very happy for years. Around the time I turned twenty, the Eris faction appeared and began making trouble. He claimed to be the true heir of the Furter house and stirred up resistance in the Rim Territories. Nobody took any of it seriously until they assassinated Queen Jenner, but by then it was too late. They had already infiltrated the Court, and somehow managed to subdue the Old Queen. Eris took power, made himself King and things started to...fall apart for all of us. But Mum, she had it the hardest."

She was watching me with rapt attention, the nearly burnt-out stub of my cig hanging from her lips. A wisp of pale hair hung down across her wide eyes and flushed cheeks. I lost my train of thought for a moment, thinking about where I'd like to put her mouth. I wondered how she'd look with those clear eyes closed and her head thrown back, pale hair coming undone…. Thankfully she spoke up and brought me back to reality before I could utter an embarrassing chain of disconnected monosyllables. "Tell me what really happened after Queen Jenner was assassinated." She said with child-like eagerness, as she sat up and stubbed the cig out. There was something curious about the way she said it. What _really _happened? As if it hadn't been all over the news at the time? She scooted closer and pulled the Abasin package out of my shirt pocket. Her fingers brushed my breast and I felt an immediate flush of hot blood to my face, and…um, other places as well. My breath caught in my throat and all thoughts about odd speech patterns left me as I watched her light the last Abasin cigarette. She took a pull and blew three perfect smoke rings off into the air.

"Uh…" She passed me the cig and I took a drag absently, trying to collect my thoughts. "Well, first my father was arrested. He was the High Imperial Admiral in charge of Space Fleet at the time. Naturally King Eris didn't want him hanging around with all that power at his command. Father was taken to City Penitentiary and we weren't allowed to see him. Mum was devastated by Jenner's death. They had been great friends since they were children, but when father was arrested and his execution was threatened, I think that she started to crack under the pressure." I paused to drain the last of my Twist from its blue-green glass. Morphia looked upset. I went on, "she began a campaign to have him freed -- she became really obsessed. She caused such a stir that I guess Eris wanted to find a way to shut her up."

The black-eyed bartender came to see us then. I ordered another round and a second pack of Abasin cigarettes. I waited until she brought them and set our drinks on the blood-red enamel table before I went on.

"The New King had my father tortured, and set up a continuous media feed to the house. It was on every com screen, blared out of every speaker, and we couldn't turn it off. My sisters and brother and I tried to keep it together, but we were all wrecked. Mum took the worst of it from all sides. In the end, she couldn't take any more. She sent a letter to the King -- I still don't know what it said. The next day a hovercraft arrived at the house…and Mum got in. She never even said good-bye. It was announced that she had suffered a mental breakdown and was put into the Psychiatric Center. I've never known whether it was true or not." I stubbed out another cig on the mound in the ashtray, which caused a small ash-slide onto the table. "The Crown seized the house and all my parent's holdings. My brother went to Court as a sort of hostage, and was eventually made to serve the new Princess. Salem took care of Kitty until she was old enough to go to the University, and the rest of us got what work we could. That was almost six years ago, and my parents are both still prisoners. Does that answer you question?"

"Yes," she whispered. I hadn't realized how close she had gotten. "I'm so sorry." Her breath was sweet from the fruit syrup in our drinks. Her mouth was open and only inches from mine, so I leaned in and I kissed her. It was everything a kiss is supposed to be, crashing waves, fire works, and supernovas. I felt her cool hand against my chest as we pulled apart. She draped her arms around my neck and pulled herself into my lap, and I could feel her trembling. "Take me home with you, Red." What could I do? I took her home.


	3. The Morning AfterShock

When I woke up the next morning I was a little disoriented. Abasin and Synthol makes for one mother of a hangover, and I had my head tipped under the cold tap in the kitchen sink before I even remembered I'd had a girl over. When it finally came back to me, I nearly drowned myself with the faucet. I groped around for the tap handle and then for something to dry my hair. I found a manky old dishtowel that probably hadn't been washed since before I'd moved in. I leaned against the counter, drying my hair and feeling contemplative. Would asking her out again be awkward? Was she just really drunk, or did she really like me? Or was I just over-analyzing? Only one way to find out, I went back to my room.

She wasn't there. My heart sank to my toes. Had it been a dream? Had this beautiful creature been a figment of my imagination? I felt like crying, and I hadn't felt like crying in years. Then my rational brain kicked in. Of course, she had been real. Of course, it had been the best sex of MY life. But Abasin and Synthol make quite a combination. The experience was one-sided. You are the one who thought there would me something there in the morning. She'd had a good time, and then gone home. Just like a thousand similar encounters that happened every night on this planet. I'd never see her again, one-night-stand. It was over, finito, finished. You'll forget it in time. I felt a little better, but not much. I plodded to the bathroom, trying not to think, but I couldn't help but notice there was no dramatic note in lipstick on the mirror. That had been a favorite of Vaya's. Somehow, that depressed me even more. I hunted around in the linen alcove until I found my secret stash of painkillers. I have to hide them lest my darling little sister use them all on her many hangovers. I downed a few and turned on the sonic shower. I deposited last night's underwear and the dishtowel into the laundry bin before I got in. As the medication set in the fog in my brain began to clear and I became proportionately more depressed. I was remembering the previous night more clearly, and that made my loneliness more vivid. I turned the shower off, and started to think of a valid excuse not to go in to work. I dried off with a proper towel and wrapped up in my mangy old robe, which was very warm and comforting despite its advanced age. I padded back out to the kitchen and put on the morning kettle. A series of giggles issued from Kitty's room. Apparently she'd had somebody over too; several somebody's in fact. I rummaged around in search of something edible among the mess. I was rewarded with a half box of not-to-stale biscuits. I made tea, flopped on the sofa with my breakfast, and began to chew the light, sugary pastry. Maybe I would stay home and clean. My apartment was a sty. Kitty never bothered to clean anything but her toys and her school uniform. I was surveying the mess when I noticed a patch of lavender and white pined to my door. That was not part of Kitty's mess. I set my mug and box down on some Pearl's Best Malt Synthol cans (the only clean surface on the coffee table) and went to the door. It was a note:

Dear Red,

I'm sorry I had to leave you sleeping.

But I blew off work yesterday, and went early

to catch up. I want to see you again. Meet me

at Sunsets tonight at hour eleven. I'll wait till

half past. If you don't show, I understand.

If you do, I have something in mind.

Morphia

Suddenly, the day looked a whole lot better. That was the white part; the lavender part was a hanky. Art-lace; real seed silk, not Synth. I pressed the soft handful to my cheek. It was like…

"G'mornin' Sisa darling!" Kitty was awake, and in a rare form, already trying to annoy me with childish nicknames. I hurriedly tucked the hanky into my robe.

"Good morning, Kit."

"Ohhhhh, whas' that? A good-bye present from you one true love?" She giggled.

Headache, five-foot-three, one-hundred-and-twenty-eight-pound, blinding, splitting headache. I stalked back to my spot on the sofa and buried my face in a biscuit. Kitty picked up a half-full bottle of something and headed back to her giggling bedroom, but not before giving me a maddeningly self-satisfied grin. As soon as the door snicked shut I whipped the hanky out and pressed it to my face. It smelled like her, sweet and musky. After a moment like this, it occurred to me that I was acting like a real twit. I folded it up and tucked it back into my robe, near my skin. Today would be a very good day. Then I looked at the clock.

"Oh, unholy mother of the Goddess!" Why hadn't Kitty said something about the time? Who was I kidding? I'd blown off work yesterday too. I swept back to my room, late, late, late! I looked for something clean to wear and wondered what I could possibly do with my hair, got tangled in my bra, and was absolutely, hideously late.


	4. On the Beach

My work is really very important, or so I'm told. I animate little dancing icon thingies for the Imperial Media System. For the Inter-vision and Tele-view networks specifically. Not a fantastic job, but it keeps tea in the kettle and a decent approximation of food on the table, so I won't complain. I also do a bit of engineering work on the side, but that's strictly under the table type stuff.

That morning I animated a dancing Solan Sundog for the entertainment news and enough weather icons to cover the entire Known Galaxy for a week. On my lunch break, I popped down to the City Engineering Department to deliver the prints for a new child development center. The department head, Harper, (who will do none of the work and get all of the credit for said child development center), exclaimed over my skill. He praised the design schematics to the sky (as always) and lamented his inability to give me a job (as always). Then he handed over a thousand credits in 50chips along with the transfer slip for the remaining ninety-nine hundred thousand (also, as always, which more than makes up for his despicable personality). Now I had some cash to take on my date, and to get lunch, a nice change. I grabbed some pocket bread from the stand outside my building and went back up to my office with a light step and a heavy purse. I animated the latest collection by Hale Hoopskirt for the fashion weekly then skipped home.

I stuck my head in the door, the place was deserted. Good, Kit was still at school. I went back to my room and dug around on the floor in search of something to wear. Finding nothing in the bedroom my search took me out to the hall then the living space. I scoured the house in rage, all to no avail. When Kitty came home from school, I pounced.

"I have just spent the last half hour digging through your debris in search of something of mine to wear." I growled.

"Have you?" Came the snide reply. "I think I saw some of your clothes in the kitchen," then, with a haughty look, swept into her room.

I did eventually find some of my good Butch Top clothes to wear. I attempted to comb my hair into some kind of order, failed miserably and ended up just putting some Caljan's Wet Shine Hair Jam in it. I whooshed it around until it looked okay, sort of, then had to wait outside the bathroom for an age while Kit dyed the ends of her hair purple. Finally, I was on the transport by hour ten wondering if she'd like a box of bon-bons. Sweetsies Confectioners was packed, of course, and all the super-sexy flower creams were gone so I had to settle for a box of butter gem toffees. At hour eleven I was at the station-deck for the Sunset Line, absolutely twitching with impatience. When I finally got out to Sunsets it was nearly half past and I burst into the bar nearly hysterical that I'd missed her.

"Hey, De'ansi!"

"Yes?" The black-eyed bartender answered

"Have you seen-"

She just pointed to the booth were we had been sitting last night. I turned around, and there she was. Her hair was down in a waist length mane, and she was dressed in a lavender sarong that matched her eyes. My mouth went dry.

She stood up and crossed the room smiling that shy radiant smile. A little hover-cooler followed her across the room. "Hi."

"Uh…hi."

"I…I was afraid you weren't gonna show." She looked up at me for a moment, then lowered her eyes. "I thought we might have a pick-nick," she motioned to her cooler. "You know, since we're so close to the beach…."

I felt a little disoriented, like Abasin and Synthol all over again. "S-sure."

Sunsets sits out on the end of the Sunset Line which follows a loop around Peal Cape which juts out into White Moon Bay. Sunsets faces the water and has a little path running from its back patio down to the waterline. The whole of Pearl Cape is covered with a transparent dome of plexi-steel. The foundation of which goes into the sea itself about a mile off shore. The water inside the dome was clam that night. The violet crash of the waves stilled by the reef at the base of the dome. Morphia led me down the path to a flat patch of sand above the tide-line. She took off her sarong and spread it out on the sand. She was wearing a strapless white bikini. My heart sped up a little and every inch of my body felt electrified. She stood up beside me. "Do you want to go for a swim?"

"Um…I haven't got a suit." It was a lame answer, but I did have the presence of mind to put my arm around her waist and pull her against me.

"Well," she breathed, her face was flushed pink. "We'll have to find something else to do. Right?" She pushed herself harder against me and pressed her lips to mine.

Then we were down on the beach. Locked together in the wet sand. I felt her heat between my fingers and the white crescent of her nails dug into my back. It was everything those damn poets write about, like the ignition of a star, or the collision of two galaxies. Only it was us, just us. The rest of the universe was gone, and there was nothing but her and me, wrapped up in the sand. Her voice rose over the distant crash of waves, breathless and almost incoherent as her body strained against mine…

She sat up; panting. She shook out the damp mane of her hair and flopped back down beside me. "Oh my Goddess." She whispered. Sand clung to her skin and sweat beaded on her face. "Oh Red, I think I love you."

I had been propping myself up off the sand to save the scratches on my back. But I nearly fell over when she said that. It had been precisely what I had been thinking. I looked down at her, but she wasn't looking at me.

"Red, we need to get off the beach."

But I was feeling to wonderfully warm and fuzzy to notice the fear in her voice or the way that she pulled on my arm. I looked back up the beach, and a full contingent of Imperial Guards was coming down the path from Sunsets.

I haven't been able to clearly remember what happened next. I think I stood up, and a shoot was fired. A pain exploded in my side and somebody grabbed me to stop me from falling. I saw the lead Guard, a large beefy woman, haul a naked Morphia up off the sand.

"Good work," she said. "We'll take it from here."

After that, everything goes black.


End file.
